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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532904">deserving of this</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the deserving series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childe/Sire Bond(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt Angel, Hurt Angel (AtS), Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Protectiveness, Vampire Bites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t break him. Somehow the splitting pain inside of him didn’t break him.</p>
<p>Leaving his childer did. God, that gut-wrenching fucking pain that threatened to swallow him whole broke him. Split him down to his very core. Not only had he caused them all the pain he had already felt, he knew he had betrayed them. He had promised to love each and every one of them, had held them all in his arms, shared the blood and breath and rush of kill with them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angel &amp; Cordelia Chase, Angel (BtVS)/Penn (AtS), Angel/Drusilla/Spike (BtVS), Angel/Spike (BtVS), Cordelia Chase &amp; Wesley Wyndam-Pryce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the deserving series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>deserving of this</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ola, this is my first work in the fandom.<br/>If there are any mistakes with grammar please let me know and I'll change them,<br/>This is quite AU, as most sire/childe lore and things are made up entirely by me, so they're probably inaccurate. <br/>In this fic, Angel sired Spike and had closer relationships with his childer. As I said, very AU.<br/>Also, the timeline between Ats and Btvs may be slightly messed. Oops!<br/>might not be the best- I'm not a very experienced writer.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re grounded.”</p>
<p>At those words, they fought. Angel against Penn. Sire against childe. They tumbled, kicked, and growled like wild animals; the demons that they were.</p>
<p>And when Penn had Angel in a headlock, his fangs gently scraping the side of his neck, just enough to make him shiver, all Angel could think was:</p>
<p>
  <em>How badly have I failed him?</em>
</p>
<p>Siring a childe, is a precious honour in the world of vampires. Becoming somebody’s creator, the being that took away their life and filled them with their very own blood, feeling their heart stop beating. Being close to them as they wake up. Giving them their first meal, or showing them how to kill it. A sire wasn’t just family, it was blood. Blood and heart and everything you had, a connection stronger than anything else.</p>
<p>And Angel had ruined this.</p>
<p>He had nurtured and cared for Penn, held him as he accustomed to his new way of not-living. He created him as he was in this world, and now Penn was about to kill him. He supposed in some ways, he deserved this. Angel knew all too well how it felt to lose the affections of your sire. It was like having your heart wrenched out of you, ripped out and stamped on. Like losing a part of you. And though it may dull, the pain it left never left. The gaping hole could never be filled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Darla had rejected him, when he couldn’t be the demon she wanted her childe to be, it felt like stepping into the sunlight. Like he was burning from the inside. And he had been a master then- not that it dulled the pain in the slightest. It didn’t break him. Somehow the splitting pain inside of him didn’t break him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Leaving his childer did. <em>God, </em>that gut-wrenching fucking pain that threatened to swallow him whole broke him. Split him down to his very core. Not only had he caused them all the pain he had already felt, he knew he had betrayed them. He had promised to love each and every one of them, had held them all in his arms, shared the blood and breath and rush of kill with them.</p>
<p>And he’d known he couldn’t have stayed because of that. His soul prevented him from relishing those moments, feeling the thrill of the kill. Sick hatred of himself replaced that. But the violent urges remained. He knew staying by his childer, those which he kept dear, would lead him back. The urge to kill remained. It hung over his head like a wizened tree. But guilt, guilt and hatred, were the noose around his neck which hung from that tree.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>How could Angel face the creatures he had created every day and night knowing he could not savour unliving as they did? They did not need to worry about the scrambling hands of human men and women as they had the life drained from then. Didn’t need to concern themselves with the pitiful cries of small children as they sunk into a cold death. His soul’s embrace was a cold one. Angel couldn’t live like they did, feeling no remorse for those acts. Uncaring for the ones he killed like before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No, staying with his childer was not a viable option. It was unrealistic- a sick fantasy which he had to bury deep inside of him. So he left his mad Drusilla, left her to cry of stars screaming and daddies leaving. So he left his sweet William to become the cold-hearted <em>Spike</em>, left him to care for Dru but sob into his bedding when daylight came and the curtains were drawn. He left Penn in Italy, to wonder why his sire hadn’t come for him like promised, left him to grow bitter hatred for Angel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> So no. Angel wasn’t surprised that Penn was going to kill him. He expected it. He didn’t welcome it, but he accepted it. He had failed Penn, betrayed him. Betrayed and failed all his childer. It was another sin he could never take back on top of the mountain of them that already weighed on his shoulders. He didn’t blame Drusilla for hurting and burning him with holy water and all manner of things in Sunnydale. He had deserved it. He didn’t blame Spike for rendering him unconscious momentarily in Sunnydale, torturing him here in LA. He deserved it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel didn’t blame Penn for the act he was about to commit, knowing that his fangs were about to plunge into his jugular and suck the life from him. He deserved it. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt him any <em>fucking </em>less.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A fat, unholy tear escaped his eye and blurred his vision of Kate, who was holding a large chunk of wood and looking rather unsure of what to do in the situation. It rolled down his face, right down onto Penn’s exposed wrist. One tear to portray the raging storm of pain inside of him. He sniffed, willing away the other tears threatening to fall. He wanted to make this as easy as possible for Penn, his childe had been through enough hurt because of him. He just wanted to die in his childe’s arms, quickly and easily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But it was too late. Too late, in every sense of the <em>damn </em>phrase.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Penn had smelt Angel’s tear, and his grip around his neck loosened a little bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Penn’s uncertain voice, small, and not even close to possessing the same spitting resentment it had just carried a moment before, when they had been fighting and spitting and so full of hate, whispered near Angel’s ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sire?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Angel’s heart could beat, it would have been fucking <em>racing. </em>Could Angel be fix what he had done? Could he fall to his knees and beg for his childe’s forgiveness, deliver him soft words and promises that he wished more than anything he hadn’t had to leave? How it had split into his returned soul?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Taking advantage of the loosened grip around his neck, he turned to Penn. Yes, he turned to Penn just to see a hunk of wood be thrust into his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Penn!”</em> Angel shouted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His childe looked into his eyes, his expression one of despair, before collapsing into dust in front of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then there was silence, then there was nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh God.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh <em>God.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel looked down to his hands. They were trembling. And coated with dust. No that wasn’t- that wasn’t <em>right.</em> Because Angel’s hands were coated with a layer of dust, coated with a layer of Penn’s dust, his childe’s dust, and it wasn’t right because Penn had just been standing right fucking <em>there</em> and now he was dust on his sire’s hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>How could this happen?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe in the ideal world, Penn’s dust would have drifted off into the wind, and it would have been beautiful, what was left of his childe mixing into the calm night air. It would have been fitting, bittersweet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Penn’s dust was encrusted onto Angel’s palms, and scattered in unmoving <em>piles</em> on the dirty filthy floor. He ceased to exist, and Angel could taste bile in his mouth. Angel felt like a knife had been plunged into his brain, into his soul, and loss was moving it around by the handle inside of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel was unmoving, save for the trembling of his hands. He was so lost in that moment, more dead to the world than he had been in 200 years, that he barely heard Kate’s voice carrying towards him. Kate, the woman who had turned Penn to dust.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-ngel, are you okay? He was going to kill you, like, even more than you are already are killed, he paused so I-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>God, Angel wished he could hate her. Wished he despised her for taking that piece of wood and turning his childe into nothing but history on the sewer floor. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but pain. It coursed through him like poison. He raised his head from his hands-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Which were covered with Penn’s dust-</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>And he looked at Kate. One look, one look was all it took for Kate to shut up. Angel backed away slowly, his hands trembling <em>still, </em>and his unnecessary breath coming out in quick desperate gasps-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then he ran.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Carefully and quietly, he pushed open the door to the hotel. He felt numb. He felt hollow inside. Like some part of him had been stripped away from him forever. It had.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia and Wesley had been waiting for him to arrive, probably worried sick about him, if they even cared about him. They shouldn’t. He was a monster, a demon, a creature of hell, and he deserved every filthy insult and scathing glare they had. Every inch of abuse they had to offer should be bestowed upon him. He was deserving of it. He needed to cry, but his eyes were dry and unfixed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Angel? Are you okay? Did you kill him?” Cordelia’s voice cutting into the silence that shrouded the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. What could he say? They would probably be relieved that Penn had been killed. His childe was killing again- No. His childe <em>had </em>been killing again. Had. Past tense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But how could he explain the pain that he was in? He was mourning a killer. A vicious murderer, an evil demon of the night. But he was also mourning family, mourning blood. Cordelia wouldn’t understand that. Wesley might, having probably studied books on Vampires, but he still wouldn’t <em>understand. </em>Not truly. The only people who might understand were his remaining family, one of which he had staked,  one was insane, and one hated him. God, all he ever did was hurt the people he cared about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s dead, Cordelia.” He whispered into the quiet, his voice scratchy and small. Cordelia must have not noticed this, as she practically collapsed with relief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank <em>God </em>for that, any longer with that murderous psychopath on the streets and who knows what could have happened? I mean what a weirdo, right? He was so-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cordelia,” Wesley interrupted her quietly. “I can’t imagine it was easy for Angel to stake a family member, no matter how evil he was.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel winced. Cordelia backtracked. “Oh crap! Sorry Angel, really, I completely forgot, it’s just really hard to think about-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t stake him.” Angel cut her off. “Kate did.” He finished, grimacing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Big <em>Oh.</em> You didn’t kill her or anything, did you? Because you can kinda see why she did Angel, I mean after all he was… well… Y’know. Evil.” She finished awkwardly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t kill her, Cordelia. I wouldn’t. I’m not even mad at her I just-“ He sucked in a needless breath. “It just hurts, guys. Hurts a lot.” He spoke, not meeting their eyes. He was very suddenly aware of the dust which remained on his hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to sleep,” Angel said quietly, leaving his friends to stare after him as he got in the elevator and travelled downstairs. He avoided their gazes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once he was downstairs, he slowly stepped towards his bedroom. He felt like life was in slow motion, that this wasn’t real. Like he was going to wake up and it would all be a dream, No- a nightmare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sunk down onto his bed, his hands on his lap, dusty hands. He knew he should wash his hands. Should scrape what was left of Penn off his hands. But it was all he had left. He clutched his chest and curled up in a small ball. The night was cold, but Angel’s thoughts were colder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Three days later.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia and Wesley busied themselves upstairs, moving about in silence. Making coffee, shuffling papers, opening and closing books. Tip-tapping fingers on desks and walls. It was the unspoken thing in the air, the unmade point, unobserved observation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Until Cordelia decided to make it spoken. Slamming a file on the desk, she spoke, “He still hasn’t come back upstairs. I’ve checked on him.” She chewed her lip. “But he just lies there and stares. And occasionally nods or shakes his head. I’m worried about him, Wesley. He doesn’t even move. I don’t think he’s been eating.” Cordelia listed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angel hadn’t re-emerged from his apartment since he first went down three days ago. Hadn’t spoken a word to either of them. He just laid there and stared into the distance, his mind God knows where. They were both worried about him, they had never seen this side of Angel before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia put her head in her hands. “I just don’t know what to do Wesley. How do we help him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wesley sighed. “I’m not entirely sure, Cordelia. I’d say if he has any family we could try and contact them, because we’ve tried talking to him but he doesn’t seem to want to communicate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, maybe we could… No… that would probably just make things worse.” Cordelia huffed, turning her attention back to her computer screen. Maybe she could research it? But she didn’t feel ‘How to care for your depressed vampire boss’ was going to bring much up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We could do what? I’m afraid whatever idea you just had may just be our last resort. There aren’t exactly many resorts in the first place.” Wesley asked her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia chewed her lip. “I was going to say maybe we could call Spike? Well, not spike obviously, but maybe ring up Sunnydale and see where he is? I heard he was back there doing something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wesley stared at Cordelia. “You want us to ring the vampire that had Angel tortured to <em>death</em>, so he can come here and provide him with emotional support?” he asked, monotonous.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia threw her hands up in the air, “Well you said it could be our last resort! Besides, isn’t Spike Angel’s kid too? That has to mean something. And even if it doesn’t, bleach boy could probably annoy Angel out of his depression!” She finished.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wesley took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Damn. This was not an easy situation. By contacting William the Bloody, they risked their safety as well as Angel’s. Wesley seriously doubted that the vampire could fight anyone off right about now. He thought Angel would probably just let whoever attacked kill him. Was it worth the risk? He thought about how Angel’s torture had been described to him. It sounded vicious. Could Spike possibly carry any feelings that were not hate towards his sire if he was able to put him through that? Then again, demons were strange creatures.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he thought about Angel, Lying on his bed, unmoving below him. Vacant. Hurting. Damn it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Contact Sunnydale.” He put his glasses back on. “Try and get a hold of Spike.” Wesley swallowed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia stared at him for a moment, before turning to the phone. “On it.” She said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wesley left the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia listened to the dialling tone on the phone. She tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello?” Buffy Summer’s voice reached Cordelia.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia smiled. Despite the bad blood between them, Cordelia did miss Buffy. She missed how she was before graduation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Buffy! Long time no see! Or talk, I guess. And I suppose I did actually see you recently, albeit briefly-“ Cordelia was cut off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cordelia! What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Buffy sounded concerned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, can I not call you for a quick catchup or something? Does there always have to be something wrong?” Cordelia said. She could practically hear the eye-roll.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Slayer, Cordelia. I kind of get used to people talking to me only when something’s wrong.” Buffy said. “So, what is it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well…” Cordelia thought about her near-comatose boss. “Nothing much… Just wondered… You wouldn’t have happened to catch Spike around, would you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Spike? As in bleached hair Billy Idol wannabe Spike? I’ve seen him around, tried to keep him from causing chaos since the whole gem thing- why?” Buffy asked. “Is it Angel? Is something wrong? What’s happening?” Buffy sounded worried.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No! nothing’s… that wrong. It’s a vampire thing. We kind of need Spike to come over to LA.” Cordelia winced. A vampire thing. Right. That didn’t sound suspicious. Buffy seemed to buy it though, or at least kind of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh. Well… I guess I’ll find him around and let him know. How urgent is it?” The slayer asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cordelia thought about the lack of blood-consuming Angel was doing. How long would he last without food? “Urgent! As soon as possible if you will please!” Realising what she just said, Cordelia quickly amended. “I mean- whenever his fine. But soon. But also like, whenever you have the time, you know casual, Just do it. Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay…? I’ll find him on my patrol. I leave in a few hours.” Buffy sounded a little curious, but not overly concerned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay! Thank you! Bye!” Cordelia slammed the phone down. The last thing Angel needed was to get even more bummed out over Buffy’s presence, so keeping the slayer out of LA was of importance. And besides- Spike would hopefully be here soon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All they could do until then was sit and wait.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>In Sunnydale.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spike was just strolling along when the slayer pounced on him. And bloody hell- it hurt! Not like he could fight back or anything. Not with that soddin’ chip and all. But damn, did he wish he could just grab the slayer’s pretty little neck and-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Spike! Just the creature of the night I was looking for!” The slayer stood up and brushed some dirt off her shirt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spike frowned. “What were you looking for me for? Thought your watcher said I wasn’t going to be dusted for taking a walk, anyway?” He asked sharply.</p>
<p>Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to stake you, moron. I’m here to give you a message.” She said, crossing her arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spike furrowed his brow. Message? “Well, slayer? Out with it then. Places to be and all.” He said, tapping his foot impatiently.</p>
<p>The slayer huffed. “Jeez, chill out a little. Don’t know why I don’t just stake you sometimes… anyway, it’s from Cordelia. They need you in LA. Some, ‘<em>vampire thing.</em>’ Don’t ask me.” Buffy said.</p>
<p>Spike raised his eyebrow. Okay, <em>what</em>? Last time he’d been in LA, he’d tortured Angel half to death, <em>literally. </em>He can’t imagine it was a social call. Peaches probably just decided he wanted to dust him. But damn, curiosity was getting the better of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Vampire thing?” He murmured.</p>
<p>Buffy threw her hands up. “I said, Don’t ask me. But you might wanna get there pretty soon. Cordelia sounded pretty urgent on the phone, no matter how crappily she covered it up.” Buffy added the last part with a huff.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spike sighed. What the hell, how bad could it go wrong?</p>
<p>“Do I have your <em>permission,</em> Slayer? God knows you like to keep me on a bloody leash nowadays.” Spike asked sarcastically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Buffy, missing this sarcasm shrugged half-heartedly. “Sure. Not like you can hurt anyone on the way, is it?” She taunted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spike growled. Bloody slayer. Turning away and walking off, he sighed as he reached into his pocket, grabbing his lighter and a cigarette.</p>
<p>Best go see what the poof wanted, mused Spike, lighting his cigarette.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed the first part.<br/>Yet again, sorry for any mistakes<br/>Please leave a comment and kudos if you want.<br/>adios</p></blockquote></div></div>
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